


Beside Ourselves with Wonder

by briaeveridian



Series: Modern AUs [9]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben POV, Ben is awkward, F/M, Implied hea, One Shot, Rey POV, Star Wars Modern AU, alcohol use, but they mean well, everyone's friends are pushy, for my own health, i needed some fluff, please forgive me for this ridiculousness, rey is awkward, some language, why do i love making them SO AWKWARD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaeveridian/pseuds/briaeveridian
Summary: Rey is stuck in a rut, or so her friends tell her. They persuade her to try something new that Rey knows will be horrible.Ben lost a bet, or so his friends tell him. To make good on this loss he has to do something spectacularly horrifying he fears may actually kill him.Lucky for them, they're both wrong.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Modern AUs [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918042
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Beside Ourselves with Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> I needed fluff to distract myself from the storm currently disrupting life in Texas. This idea occurred to me while trying to keep warm in bed during the rolling blackouts. It's truly, shamelessly, **_ridiculous_**.

“You are going to love this class!” Rose declares with a puzzling amount of confidence from the living room.

Rey side-eyes her, unconvinced, and keeps washing dishes. “Tell me again how I’ve been wrangled into this? Because I believe in enthusiastic consent for all things. And going to a nude drawing class is something I have exactly _zero_ interest in.” 

Placing the plate on the drying rack, Rey grabs the next item from the sink. She runs her fingers over the glass and becomes transfixed by the rainbow-hued soap slipping along the curved surface. It reminds her of a satellite grazing the atmosphere of a planet. The distraction doesn’t last long.

“Trust me. This is good for you. You might not know this, but there’s a whole world out there, full of people and places and things. Some of these things are beautiful.” She raises her hands comically. “You can make connections and build relationships. Maybe you’ll even build something long-term,” Rose says with an eyebrow waggle.

Rey flicks soap at her. “I’m perfectly content to live my life as a mechanic. I have plenty of connections with things that don’t argue, don’t ignore, and don’t think they know better.” She’s making a joke but underneath the jovial tone is a hint of truth.

Her friends have always pushed her more than she’s comfortable with. Sometimes it works out and Rey begrudgingly thanks them. But most of the time it’s a disaster. Of course, her roommates conveniently forget their less-than-stellar track record and just _keep trying_. It’d be remarkably annoying if she didn’t know their intentions were always positive.

In this instance, Rey has a very clear sense of which category this ordeal will fall into.

“Listen, you remember how reluctant I was when Paige told me about it. Like, what a weird thing to stare at a naked person and draw them. But I promise it’s really relaxing and fun. The models are comfortable with their bodies, or they wouldn’t be there. So there’s nothing awkward about it. We’re all adults, anyway.” Rose shrugs.

At that moment, Jannah enters the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I would argue with this idea that _we’re all adults._ ” She smirks merrily, sidles beside Rey, and starts drying dishes.

Rose ignores the jab and walks into the kitchen. “Why are you so opposed, Rey? Why is it so hard to try something new?” 

Jannah grins. “I love you, Rose. But your passion for ‘new’ adventures can wear on the rest of us. Not to say it’s a bad thing,” Jannah amends when she observes Rose’s hurt expression. 

“We just have different desires for how to spend a weeknight,” Rey adds.

“Oh wait, is _that_ what this is about? No, sorry, Rey. I’m with Rose on this. I’m PUMPED about this drawing class.” Her eyes twinkle for a moment and she swishes her hips. Rose joins in a lively shimmy.

“So I’m the only one who doesn’t want to go?” Rey deflates. _Everyone’s so excited. Why can’t I be excited about this?_ As if sensing her thoughts, Rose and Jannah stop dancing.

“I genuinely don’t see the harm in at least giving it a try,” Paige calls from the living room. She gives Rey a sympathetic look. “But if you really don’t want to go, no one will force you. _Right,_ ladies?”

Jannah and Rose withering glance. “Of course,” Jannah says with a serious frown.

“Paige is absolutely right. I’m sorry I was being too pushy.” Rose walks over to hug Rey. “You just seem so sad lately. I thought it would make you smile, is all. Get you out of the regular routine. It’s rude of me to ignore your preferences.”

Rey can tell that Rose means it. Though trying at times, her friends are the most important people in her life. Their love and support are more than she’d ever hoped to experience as a foster kid. And she doesn’t take it for granted.

 _Maybe going once won’t be so bad… It would at least make them happy._ She relents. “Fine, yes, I’ll go sketch a nude woman for the sake of improving my artistic skills.” Rey rolls her eyes dramatically. Rose cheers and Jannah tries to hide her smug look.

Paige nods. “Excellent. And, just so you know, sometimes the models are men.”

The color drains from Rey’s face. “What? Why didn’t anyone tell me that?” She looks pointedly at the other women crowding the kitchen.

“Why would you assume otherwise? Anyone can volunteer to be a model, after all.” Rose winks at Rey. “I’m going to get ready. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Rey shakes her head in awkward disbelief. _Draw a nude man? I’ve only ever seen one man naked and I’d rather not be reminded of how awful that incident was…_ Her cheeks are flaming. Noticing, Jannah rests a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“If you’re still sure you want to go, I promise you’ll get over it pretty quickly. It’s informal and everyone’s super nice. And,” she says with eyebrows raised. “It’s even better if we pre-game it. Anyone want a drink?” Jannah looks around the group.

“I do!” Rose hollers from her bedroom. 

Paige declines. “I’m driving.”

“Rey?” Jannah retrieves the tequila from the liquor cabinet. 

Rey doesn’t respond at first. There are too many things that could go wrong here, too many paths that will lead to _chaos_ and _regret,_ the primary being that the night could spiral out of control and she is supposed to work tomorrow. Calling into the garage at the last minute is something Rey despises doing. She prides herself on being professional.

And responsible.

“No pressure,” Paige emphasizes with a glance at Jannah and heads to her room.

Jannah inclines her head, taking Rey’s lack of response as a no. She sets two shot glasses on the counter and fills them for herself and Rose. “Alright, guess I’d better put on some nicer clothes since that’s what everyone else is doing.” She kisses Rey on the cheek and leaves her in silence.

Rey watches her friends disappear through their respective doors. After a moment, she glances at the sink to scan the numerous tiny bubbles that pop at random. They have short lives, these bubbles. They have no choice about where they go or what they clean. _Forced to go with the flow. Without a care in the world. Maybe I should try it._

She leans over, grabs one of the two shot glasses, and sends the liquid down her throat before she loses her nerve.

 _I’d better not regret this._

Rey trots to her room and stares dejectedly at her closet. She hasn’t done laundry in a few days so there’s not much to choose from. Eventually, she picks a black and white striped shirt that hangs loosely on her, a green jacket, and semi-clean jeans. Her feet slip into her favorite pair of sneakers and is the first to arrive back in the living room.

Meanwhile, the alcohol has hit her in less of a gentle wave and more a tsunami. Since she rarely drinks alcohol, one shot usually sets her up for an hour of giddiness. But the upside is she doesn’t suffer from hangovers. Not anymore.

The first time she drank was with Rose in their dorm room, taking turns gulping a pirated bottle of terrible sangria. It had too much sugar and their bodies were left with more than one kind of hangover. Paige, Rose’s older sister, and her friend Jannah were quite the supportive elders during their recovery. Since then, the four of them had been inseparable, pooling their money to rent whole houses for themselves. It was the kind of bond that Rey knew would get her through any hardship in life.

Now in their mid to late twenties, the partying was beginning to taper off, to Rey’s relief. But there were still moments where the others felt the urge to let loose. And Rey hated disappointing people.

The others file into the living room with smiles and jocular barbs at one another other. They all look well put together in their trendy casual wear. _How do they always look so cute?_

“Hey wait, there’s only one shot here,” Jannah announces when she enters the kitchen. She leans back to catch Rey’s eye, who looks away with an affected guilty look. “I wonder where it went,” Jannah teases. 

“Yay! We’re going to have such a great time. Rey, here’s an extra sketchbook and couple of pencils.” Rose shoves the items into Rey’s hands and goes to consume her tequila.

While Jannah and Rose laugh in the kitchen, Paige glances at Rey. “You can always leave. If you’re uncomfortable, I mean. And I will make sure _no one_ makes fun of you for it.” Paige gives Rey a side hug. “There’s a nice coffee shop next door to the studio. We can meet you there afterward.”

Rey nods gratefully. “Thanks, Paige. I’m hoping it won’t come to that. And who knows. Maybe I’ll just be absolutely beside myself encountering a naked man standing in the middle of the room.” She says it in a rush and immediately laughs awkwardly. “I’m already tipsy.”

Paige moans theatrically. “Ah to be tipsy! Next time, someone else is driving.” 

“Agreed,” Jannah says when she joins them. 

“Next time we’ll plan a ride,” Rose corrects. Everyone nods in agreement.

“Ready?” Rose asks Rey with a sweet smile.

“Yes. Let’s go before the buzz wears off.” 

Jannah barks a laugh as they march through the front door. Paige locks the door. Rose links elbows with Rey and clutches her reassuringly. Rey swallows the last bit of her trepidation and lets Rose drag her to the car.  
  


* * *

  
“I will never forgive them for this,” Ben swears under his breath. 

He clutches the robe on his chest and works his jaw forcefully. The fluffy fibers snag on his skin as he unconsciously runs a thumb over the off-white polyester. It’s not a warm robe, he realizes belatedly. There’s a draft that makes him exceedingly conscious of how naked he is. 

_In public._

The resulting blossom of heat in his face is so intense that it radiates outward. Crimson in hue, it tinges his ears and flares down his neck. _Will the artists notice if I’m blushing?_ This thought only serves to increase the tenacity of the flush, both in pigment and extent.

No matter how many times he swallows, the dryness of his throat won’t abate. At the same time, a liquid anxiety courses through him. Distilled, pungent. _I’m going to be sick._

Desperate for a distraction, Ben lets his eyes fall to the floor. The wooden boards are well-worn and needing a refinish. Some hold golden threads, others veins that are more coppery, tawny. To his chagrin, the grains make him think of a woman’s hair.

 _Goddamnit._

For an instant, he considers leaving the building, packing his bags, and never coming back to this town. _Anything to avoid this humiliating and pointless act. Except that to get out of it could require doing something even worse..._

Ben starts pacing, bare feet making minimal noise on the planks. He has nowhere to go, not really. And the thought of starting over makes his empty threat seem all the more detestable.

He’s not actually sure how this all came about. The night in question is blurry from too much alcohol and too little sleep. For weeks he has denied that it even occurred, while Finn and Poe shared remarkably consistent recollections. But his lack of memory forced him to stop arguing after a while.

Ben had considered that perhaps they got together and came up with this whole thing to coerce him into this position for the laughs. Because he cannot imagine he would agree to this bet under any circumstances, sober or inebriated. 

But that little bit of doubt wins. He won’t renege and his friends know it. _Those bastards._

An electronic ping erupts from the robe’s pocket. He knows at once it’s one of the traitors he calls friends. Spitefully Ben considers ignoring it but he’s too anxious and there’s nothing else to do in these last excruciating moments alone.

He pulls the phone from his pocket and reads over the text. 

It’s from Finn. **“Hey, feelin pretty bad about this. Not too late to back out.”**

Ben taps an outraged response. _“Are you serious? Backing out was an option??”_

**“We’re the worst, we know. Check under the sink for some liquid courage we stored in there, just in case.”**

Ben glances around the room until his eyes settle on a small bottle under the exposed sink drain. Pressing his hands roughly to his face, Ben lets out another groan. 

He really really doesn’t want to be here. And being here _drunk_ sounds even worse. From the start he knew the likelihood of making an absolute fool of himself was high. Why would he throw in another variable? Something that would potentially make him act differently? _More carless. More confident...._ he realizes slowly. 

_Fuck it._

Ben grabs the bottle and takes a quick swig. Enough to take the edge off, to make it slightly less awful to bare his entire naked form in front of strangers. _Finn’s right; the alcohol could do wonders for my anxiety right now._

He glances in the small mirror and grimaces. They’d recommended he shower _“just to be polite,”_ Poe had the audacity to say, while Finn laughed so hard Ben could still hear it through his closed-door moments later. _Absolute ass holes. Both of them._

That’s not entirely true but Ben isn’t ready to be magnanimous.

His clean hair is curling from the humidity of the room. Pawing at it only seems to make it worse. Ben shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, unable to process the embarrassment that is about to descend upon him. _For the rest of my pathetic life,_ he thinks dramatically.

 _And on top of everything, I had to buy a robe for this!_ His nerves are crackling with apprehension. Pouring his focus into white-hot rage helps, but only a bit.

To his horror, voices start trickling into the other room. Some are particularly raucous as if they are actually _enjoying themselves._ He knows Finn and Poe are out there, too, saying who knows what about him. _Probably already wreaking havoc, because they’re bored and reckless and completely incapable of having an empathetic thought._

Immediately the other side of his brain counters. Finn and Poe had been there for him through rounds of familial, professional, and romantic wreckage. Underneath his current resentment is a profound gratitude that they been supportive through so much. They’re patient and accepting, resolute and practical. If he sometimes has to parade around an intro to drawing class to make good on a bet, then he could manage that.

He takes another small gulp of the bourbon and sighs. _Maybe this won’t be so bad. They’re strangers, after all. I’ll never see any of these people again. I just go up there, stay still, try not to sneeze…_ A frenzied laugh bursts from him at the image. He claps his hands over his mouth to stifle it, which allows the robe to droop open.

“Shit shit shit,” Ben exclaims, pressing the robe back together, then stops, feeling the alcohol starting to warm his body. _What do it doesn’t matter? Pretty soon I won’t have the robe at all. Hopefully, the drawing room has the heat on…_ he thinks distantly. He relaxes, finally, and decides that if he has to do this, then he’s going to do it as best he can.

The footsteps scatter about the other room until most of them stop. A moment later, the door cracks open. Ben startles and tries to settle down. 

Phasma, who greeted him upon his arrival, peeks her head around the door. “They’re ready for you, Mr. Solo.” She gives him a friendly smile.

“Ah, yes, good.” He clears his throat. “I’ll... be right there.” The words come out a bit stilted.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yes, quite fine. I’ve done _this_ \--” Ben gesticulates wildly and continues rambling, “before and this will be just fine like all the other times I’ve done it. Done _this._ ”

She studies him briefly, her brows stitching together. “You don’t have to be a professional. Just be calm and try to minimize movements. I think you’ll have fun.” Phasma winks at him encouragingly. Ben gulps.

“Fun.” The word feels foreign, consonants that cause his mouth to do weird, unfamiliar things. _Shit. I’m tipsy. This is not good._

Suddenly, an image of his father invades his mind, looking more amused than reproachful. _“My son should be able to handle his alcohol better than this.”_ Disappointing his parents is one of his very least favorite things to do. And yet he succeeds on a frequent basis. Even when they’re not around.

“Sorry, dad,” Ben mumbles.

He hears Phasma speaking in the studio. Then there’s an odd pause as everyone waits. Ben swallows, clenches his fists, and pulls the door open with an excess of force.

Eyes immediately fall heavily on him. _This is it. My death march._ He refuses to look at anyone as he walks to the center of the room, head high and jaw set. 

There’s an upraised square platform and on it, a wooden chair draped with a sheet. He walks to it, steps up. Freezes under the lights.

Someone whoops. He knows it’s Poe. It’s followed by a weird high-pitched noise that might pass for laughter but he can’t be sure. Whatever it was, it heightens his state of self-consciousness to a nearly unbearable degree. He bites his bottom lip as nausea rolls over him. 

_It’s just humiliation. It won’t kill you._ He holds his breath.

Phasma appears beside him. “I’ll take your robe if you’re ready. We only have an hour so it’s best we get started.”

Ben nods, numbly, and undoes the tie at his waist. Dazed, he becomes aware of coolness hitting various parts of his body at different times; first his chest, then his abdomen, then his hips. He tries not to sway on the platform. _Why didn’t I take another shot..._

“You can start sitting down, if you’d like,” Phasma encourages gently. 

Ben looks at her bizarrely then sinks into the chair. His mind, for once, is blank. It’s a relief. He’s not sure if he could handle any actual thoughts.

But then.

“Ben Solo?”

It’s a woman’s voice. Timid. Slightly slurred. Or so he thinks in his own compromised state.

He jolts, color draining from his face dangerously fast. _Okay. Well. This is the last day of my life. So long, family. So long, career._

Awkward noises occur in quick succession, including a stifled gasp and too loud shushes. There’s nothing he can do, no way to end this. Craning to the left, he tries to find the source of the original voice to at least understand _why the hell this is happening_

“Quiet,” Phasma requests from an unknown place.

But no one listens.

Ben’s eyes fall on a woman in a white and black striped shirt. Her eyes are wide, cheeks rosy. They lock eyes for an intolerably long period of time.

“I don’t know you,” he says flatly. Another layer of embarrassment settles over his already substantial distress. _Great. Now I’m being rude._

“You wouldn’t.” She visibly gulps. “I work for your dad. He has your college graduation picture on his desk in the garage.”

Ben wishes he could evaporate. Molecule by molecule. Snapped from existence. _I will never live this down._

“Oh,” he replies. “Well. Uh. Good to meet you?”

Someone laughs, breaks the spell. The woman he’s staring at smiles broadly. Her hazel eyes are dancing. She looks _happy,_ which confounds him. _What is there to be happy about right now?_

Then she utters a profoundly odd sentence. “I’ve always thought you were really cute.”

Ben blinks. Something interesting comes over him, soothing and sweet. The room brightens or maybe it’s just _her._ Somehow, Ben forgets the circumstances, forgets his horror. He smiles back at her. 

And, wondrously, it feels exactly right.

**Author's Note:**

> ✨Thank you for reading ✨
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://briaeveridian.tumblr.com/) where my SW obsession lives aggressively.


End file.
